Small outlined heart tattoo filled with bands of red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rainbow heart tattoo on skin

Colour · Photo

A heart outline in dark ink is filled with a rainbow gradient running diagonally from red at the lower left through orange, yellow and green to blue and purple at the upper right. The colour is smooth and softly blended, with the heart centred on a plain area of skin. No body part is clearly identifiable in the frame.

Heart Rainbow

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The toll-keeper at Harrow Ford had a rule painted on a board by the bridge: carry nothing across that you cannot name. Most travellers named their goods without thinking. Old Sela Brand had kept the gate for thirty winters and had heard every kind of lie about wool, salt and honey, so she no longer argued with people. She only asked what they had.

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One grey morning a dyer's boy came down the north road with a bundle under his arm and nothing to declare. He said it was a length of cloth for his mother. Sela unwrapped it on the wooden counter. It was wool dyed red at one end, then orange and yellow, then green, then blue and a deep violet at the other, the colours running slantwise as though the dye had been poured across a hill. She asked what it was called. The boy said his mother had no name for it. It was for a heart that had to be carried over.

Sela looked at the board. The duty was a silver penny for each colour, and the boy had only copper in his pocket. She counted the stripes, seven of them, and found she could not say where one ended and the next began. So she folded the cloth small, put it in the strongbox with her own coins, and waved him through without a word. The board did not say what to do with a thing that could not be cut in two without spoiling it.

That evening she walked out to the middle of the bridge, where the white paint marked the county line. Someone had pinned a scrap of the same wool to the rail there. The colours bled into the last light on the water, and from either bank nobody could have said which side it belonged to. Sela left it where it was. By spring the rain had worn the white line off the stones, and the wool was still there.